District 9: The Forgotten District
by RayT22
Summary: District 9: Always seems to be forgotten. From the books to the movies to even fan-made SYOTS, no one ever focuses on District 9. District 9 deserves more time in the spotlight, so here is the stories of the first male and female victors from District 9.


**_Author's Note:_**

 _Hello! Welcome to this story! This is **not** a SYOT, __but I'm preparing one for you once I get done with the female victor from 9 (I'll explain later...) This story is about the first two victors in District 9, known as the forgotten district, even in SYOT's. District 9 is rarely used so I decided to dedicate this entire story to D9 for whatever reason. You may submit tributes, but don't put effort into them as they'll rarely be talked about and I don't want you to waste time. Without further ado, here is the story of the first female victor from District 9_

 _Chandra Moon, 16, District 9_

The endless wheat fields stretched out for miles, covering the entire terrain of the ground except the small houses and markets scattered across the various streets of District 9. The narrow pathway I was walking on led to the town square where one tribute from each district, unless they were as vicious as a career and as strong as a bodybuilder, would die in the first few seconds of the games and break all of our hopes that maybe they could've won and brought back riches to our district.

It was even more annoying that the boy who won last year was the son of a victor, was snotty and rude, and was the one who killed our male tribute, that 12 year old boy, sentenced to death the second he was reaped.

I remember that boy who was reaped last year, his life coming to an end when Viara Diamond pulled his name out of the mountain of slips in the bowl and chose _him._

He had long, brown, curly hair and was on the shorter side of his age, barely clearing 5'. His shirt was worn down by the various days he had been working on the field and his pants were a light, tan brown, shimmering in the sunlight. His outfit was messy and torn apart, and I bet you he thought he thought he would never be picked and he could probably wore that messy shirt because he thought he would be on screen for 5 seconds at most.

The boy, against his odds, was reaped and deemed the District 9 tribute for the 34th Hunger Games. The other tribute - her name starting with a "R," but I forget - was a tall, skinny girl with pale skin and strawberry red hair, stretching down to her stomach.

She looked a little scruffy as well. She wore a white, bland shirt and gray khaki pants with a small rip on them by her ankle. Her socks were non existent and her shoes were worn down by the constant walking and work she had to do on the field.

The girl could've been about 17, but didn't last a day in the arena. After the bloodbath, she was our only hope left. Her age and spear throwing skills could've helped her, but she had apparently never learned the Number 1 rule in the arena: never light a fire

On the first night, due to her stupidity, she lit a raging fire that sent off so much smoke it could've been mistaken for a forest fire if you stood far enough away.

That night, not the Careers, but the male from 7 found her and threw an axe at her chest, sending her cannon off immediatelty, signaling her inevitable death.

The rest of the games were boring to watch, not because of our tributes quick deaths - though it played a huge factor in the number of citizens participating in watching the games - it was because of how average and boring the games were.

The Careers viciously killed all of the tributes, including the male from 7 who had incredible axe power, and then turned on each other. Since the Career pack was the last four left, they fought a huge battle and the male from 1 came victorious, becoming the 10th victor of the Games for District 1 out of the 34 that had occurred.

District 9 hadn't won a single one... _A single one,_ I thought. _A single one..._

This year, Viara Diamond always had a theme to 'brighten up' the Reaping's and this year it was pumpkin orange. Her orange eyeliner glistened in the sun beaming down on her. Her futuristic-looking orange top had massive shoulder pads that made her look like a 'football' - a common sport before the rebellion - player. Her heavy and thick, bright orange tights looked absolutely ridiculous and her shoes had pumpkins on them with a deep orange background.

I never saw the rebellion with my own eye, but my parents and lone grandparent tells me about it. My "Gram-Gram" Matilda told us about how my mother, Cora, was born in the middle of the battlefield and miraculously survived, unlike her twin brother who perished of radiation poisoning a mere week later.

I was glad I had never lived in the rebellion, as my parents tell me it was a horrifying place. Destruction everywhere, family perishing and passing away everyday, and homes and buildings burnt to ashes.

I imagined the horrible place and cringed. If the same thing was going on in the Capitol - which I doubt - then it would be the slightest bit acceptable to remind the districts how they destroyed a perfectly fine nation and give them the Hunger Games, but they didn't.

The Capitol treated the district citizens like slaves, giving them a crumb of food and saying, " _You're fine, don't be such a baby about it,_ " while they eat their fancy dinners of roasted pig with and complain about it.

The gourmet dinners they get and take for granted, the reason behind the Hunger Games, the snotty winners, it all made me hate the Capitol and what they do to the poor people who live in even poorer districts like 11 and 12.

I arrived at the section for the reaping and entered the designated line for the blood being drawn.

"Next!" the man working at the blood drawing machine yelled, and I firmly marched over to the area where the past kid had been standing.

"Finger!" he commanded, and I held out my calloused finger, dirty and tired from days on the field. The machine swiftly pierced my finger and three drops of blood lay on my finger, moving around a little in the soft breeze outside

"Name!" he shouted, and I swiftly murmured, "Chandra Moon." The man searched threw the book of names and found the reserved spot that said " **MOON, CHANDRA, 5 SLIPS IN"** and commanded for me to put my calloused finger on a small box below it. The dried blood dried up against the rough piece of paper.

He ordered the next person up in the line and I walked over to the section on the left that had the number " **16** " on it in bold ink, with the sign it was on flailing around in the now stronger breeze. I stood in line next to a pair of two girls.

The girls next to me looked similar, they both had the same dirty blond hair, were about the same height, and had light grass green eyes, shining in the rays of sun, beating down on District 9.

At first, I suspected the two girls were twins, but dropped that idea once I saw their two different faces that looked nothing alike. One had a long, wide mouth that stretched out almost to her cheek and another had a short and stubby mouth that gave a distinct curve inwards.

My thoughts of the differences were interrupted by Viara's remark.

"Hello! Hello! Welcome to the 35th Annual Hunger Games!" she shouted, trying to brighten the mood by applauding and wearing her completely orange outfit, but it didn't work to the completely gloomy District 9.

All I, and most likely the other girls, cared about was that we didn't get reaped and we weren't put up as bait for Careers to hunt and prey on us.

Viara's loud voice continued as she spoke into the microphone. "As always, ladies first..."

Viara walked over to the bowl, her feet pounding against the wooden surface of the stage, and grabbed a tiny slip at the top of the pile.

She walked back over straight to her microphone, struggling to unfold the tiny envelope in front of the microphone. After peeling the tiny, white sticker with the Capitol logo on it, the top flap flied open and she revealed the folded piece of paper that was hidden in the white, bland envelope.

She read out the name of the piece of paper on the envelope loud and clear, only the wind causing a slight interruption, making the microphone sound more distant. Everyone held their breath as she announced the name.

"Chandra Moon!" she shouted, applauding with her petite, powdered hands. Everyone gave a sigh of relief except me. I had just been sentenced to death by mutilation by a vicious group of deadly, trained kids my age. My heart sunk as I walked out, in front of the two twin-like girls and went onto the dirt pathway leading to the stage.

My feet caught against the wooden steps and made a creaking noise, echoing out into the distance. I saw my mother and little sister, Missie, just arrive, and I saw my mother's face of woe and despair. A tear streamed down her face and Missie stood in her spot, motionless.

Missie was old enough to understand the Hunger Games and the concept of it, but not to the full extent. She didn't realize that this was a death sentence and I would die, probably within the first few seconds of the games.

I saw myself on the screen, face with dirt here and there and my outfit of a white, semi-formal shirt and light gray pants. I had no idea I would be on national Capitol television and people would be taking bets on me based off of my appearance, but I just stood there, keeping my tears away so the Capitol wouldn't think I was weak.

"Now for the boys..." she remarked and loudly walked over to the boys bowl and went back in front of the microphone.

The flap, like before, flipped open after she peeled the white sticker with the Capitol logo on it and she reveled the slip of neatly folded paper.

"The male tribute from District 9 will be..." she looked down at the piece of paper. "Johannson Creed!" I sighed in despair as I saw a short, maybe 12 or 13 year old boy walk up to the stage, fearful with no words. He looked identical to the male tribute from last year but I doubted they were related.

He had a torn down, white shirt and midnight black shorts, unlike the ones the boy from last year wore when he was reaped. His physical features, though, were so similar that I started to doubt my claim that they two boys weren't related.

"Our tributes from District 9, Chandra Moon and Johannson Creed! Now both of you shake hands!" she shouted, her voice booming throughout the square as she talked into the microphone. I held out my hand in fear and he did as well, and I could feel his cold, weak hand as we shook them and brought them down.

As we walked into the justice building and the loud, obnoxious anthem stated to play, I thought, _Me and my District Partner won't live a day in that arena..._

 _Hello! Thanks for reading this intro. I like how it turned out and hopefully you do too! This chapter was on the shorter side, I just need some juicy stuff to work off of. The next update will be May 20th, 2018 about the goodbyes so be prepared for that. Leave reviews as I always like to see what you guys think and thanks again for reading._

 _Until I see you again, it's raykungfu..._


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